I slapped him on the shoulder. ‘You will get yourself killed one of these days.’
‘No more than you. I’m just one among thousands when the battle begins, but you stand out like a boil on a senator’s nose.’
‘How so?’
‘Everyone knows that King Pacorus rides a white horse and fights in Roman armour with white feathers in his helmet. They must be queuing up to put a spear in your belly.’
‘Well,’ I replied, ‘like you said, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.’
The camp bustled with activity — centuries marched out to drill, to practise throwing javelins, or to hone their sword skills. Others were sitting on stools cleaning mail shirts and helmets or sewing tunics. And all the time centurions armed with vine canes stalked the tented avenues like wolves, looking for infractions to punish. In general, though, the atmosphere was relaxed and confident. The men had won another victory, boosting their reputation and confidence. For their part the men of Pontus had consigned their dead to the fires, nursed their wounds but did not grumble. Their numbers were depleted but they too were in good spirits. Victory is an amazing panacea for all ills.
The griffin was in its tent as before, guarded within and without by its specially chosen colour party. I chatted to the men outside the tent about the recent battle and then went inside. Next to the griffin I saw another standard, a long, thick shaft surmounted by a silver horse’s head. Below it, fixed to the shaft, were three round silver discs.
‘What’s this?’ I asked.
Domitus pointed to the new standard. ‘I had it made while you were at Hatra. Take a closer look.’
I walked forward and saw that each disc displayed a different design.
‘It is a record all the legion’s victories. The staff is made from a kontus, one that we found on the battlefield. And I put a horse’s head on top to signify the legion’s Parthian heritage.’
I reached out and touched the top disc, which sported an elephants’ head.
‘That one is to commemorate the victory over Porus.’
I pointed at the middle one, which showed a group of kings being trampled. ‘And this one?’
‘Surkh.’
The bottom disc showed an eagle with a spear through it by a river.
‘And this must be our recent victory at Dura.’
‘That’s right.’
I was impressed. ‘I did not realise that there was a poet inside you, Domitus.’
He frowned. ‘It’s good for morale, that’s all. I had the idea and Gallia and Godarz agreed, so we had the city’s best silver smith make the discs.’
‘It must have been expensive.’
He grinned. ‘It was, and old Rsan wanted to veto the idea, but you know what Gallia is like when someone tries to contradict her.’
‘Indeed. I like it, Domitus. Well done.’
Two weeks passed and messages arrived from Ctesiphon that Orodes was to return to his father’s court. He ignored them.
‘I can do what I like and only I command my bodyguard,’ he said defiantly, tossing the latest missive from his father into the fire.
His men were camped north of the city next to the Euphrates. Those that had been badly wounded and were unable to ride any more had been sent back to Susa. The rest had stayed with their lord.
I was sitting with him and his senior officers wrapped in our cloaks around a raging fire, for the nights were cool now.
‘I am going to Media,’ I said, staring at the flames. ‘I promised Farhad I would aid him. I must honour my pledge.’
‘I will come with you,’ said Orodes, his face illuminated by the fire.
‘I thought you had been ordered back to Ctesiphon.’
‘I have no wish to see my step-brother or his mother. Besides, I am the son of the King of Kings, I can go where I will.’
‘Perhaps it would be unwise to associate with me further, especially as I appear to be an outcast.’
He looked at me earnestly. ‘The day men like you become outcasts is the day the Parthian Empire dies.’
His officers muttered their agreement.
I decided to take a small force to Media; no more than a thousand riders. Half would be my cataphracts, though they would leave their scale armour and squires behind. The rest would be Orodes and his men, plus a few others to make up the full thousand. Nergal wanted to be one of them and was very disappointed when I refused his offer.
‘I am the commander of your horsemen, Pacorus.’
‘And that is precisely why you must stay here, my friend.’
He remained unconvinced. ‘There is no honour in staying at Dura while you go to campaign in the north.’
I laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘If I should fall, you will lead Dura’s horsemen. I cannot concentrate on Media if things here are remiss.’
It was a weak argument, but he nodded sullenly and that was that. The fact was that Nergal was my right-hand man and only he knew how to command heavy cavalry and horse archers in battle. Without Nergal Dura’s mounted arm would be woefully deficient in leadership. To alleviate his disappointment I told him to take a thousand riders to Babylon as a sign of Dura’s allegiance, and I told him that he could raid Mesene if he so chose.
‘Just don’t get yourself killed,’ I told him.
Gallia was also far from happy. ‘I see no reason for you to go to Media.’
‘I promised Farhad that I would assist him when I could.’
It was early evening and she was brushing her hair. Claudia lay asleep in her cot beside our bed.
‘He did not come to your aid when an enemy army was sitting before Dura.’
‘That is because he had been defeated and his kingdom threatened. You know all that.’
She stopped her grooming and turned to look at me. ‘Let Phraates look after his empire and you take care of Dura. He has not raised a finger to aid Media.’
‘I made a pledge, it has nothing to do with Phraates.’
‘Good, because he is a coward.’
‘You should not say that of the King of Kings.’
‘Why not, it is the truth. Or is speaking the truth forbidden in the Parthian Empire?’
‘Of course not,’ I replied. ‘I do not want to argue with you tonight.’
She caught my eye and smiled. ‘As you wish. Just make sure you come back.’
I wrapped my arms round her and kissed her on the cheek.
‘I always come back.’
‘Mmm. I suppose. And take that idiot Surena with you. Hopefully he will get himself killed and save me having to do it.’
Surena had become a good squire. I had enrolled him in the Sons of the Citadel scheme and he had shown great promise. He had a keen mind and learned quickly, but he also possessed a mischievous streak that led him astray. He was insatiably curious about the Amazons and had become obsessed by one of them in particular, a wiry girl who had earned the nickname Viper. She looked like an innocent teenager, with her small breasts and short-cut hair, but she had the strength of a lion and her skill with a bow, dagger and sword made her a formidable member of Gallia’s bodyguard. Surena had made a point of sitting next to her in classes, as Gallia had insisted that her most promising women should also be allowed to receive instruction. The tutors, mostly middle-aged or elderly Greeks, Egyptians and Parthians, had strongly objected. But an increase in their pay and a visit from the queen, during which she had used all her feminine charm, had won them over. Out of good manners Viper had smiled at Surena and they had exchanged courtesies, which he had mistaken for an invitation to get intimately acquainted. The upshot being that he had patted her backside and tried to kiss her, whereupon she had slapped his face and stormed off. Word of this reached Gallia, who had ordered Surena’s arrest. It had been with the utmost difficulty that I had secured his release. Gallia was very protective of her Amazons, and for the most part everyone treated them like a nest of cobras — with respect and at a safe distance. Surena, on the other hand, believed them to be his personal harem.